Look at Me
by Firelily93
Summary: An exploration into Draco and Hemrione's relationship. She wants him to look at her. She wants them to finally grasp the thing that hovers between them. Why won't he let them?


LOOK AT ME

A story to explore the complex relationship Hermione and Draco might have had.

I forget really how this all started. It defies all explanation because this should never have been in the realm of possibilities. I think back and remember that it all began between a taunting jab and us suddenly becoming so close physically that my body had reacted quiet unexpectedly. He's always used to make those snarky comments that made my blood boil and my face flush.

Used to, because now those comments have been almost completely abandoned. He hardly ever says a thing to me anymore. There are three circumstances in which he speaks to me. The first is if there is a large audience and he is put on the spot.

Just two days ago I had been wandering too close to the dungeon with my head in a book when I had run into a group of Slytherins. Ever since whatever is happening between us started happening Draco doesn't look at me very often. He doesn't lead a group towards me with that infuriating smirk on his face and quick witted words on his tongue. Instead Pansy is now my main Slytherin antagonist. She sees me and smiles.

Yes, two days ago Pansy and a group of Slytherins had approached me all smiling except _him_.

Pansy had cackled at her own un-clever comments and the rest had laughed although I think Draco less enthusiastically and perhaps Pansy notices this too because she turns to address him.

"Come on Draco! What's wrong with you lately?" She demands. She means why won't he make eye contact with the mudblood, why won't he taunt her with the vigor that he used to. I can understand her confusion as well.

"Nothing Pansy. Just seems childish to me." I can't help snorting at that because when has he not been childish. His eyes flit quickly to me and I straighten because I know now that we have fallen into the first condition under which he will speak to me. Am I actually looking forward to it? Yes, it might be sick, but I want desperately to hear him insult me if only to hear his voice.

"Is there something you have to say to me, mudblood?" He sneers and I contain a shudder. The deprivation from his voice has made me weak to exposure to it, especially directed at me.

"Funny," I'm relieved to her my tone is haughty, not breathless. "That you would be worried about being childish when it's you that always goes running to daddy when something doesn't go your way." I know this jab will incite more reaction from him and more eye contact and just more.

"Yes I suppose it wouldn't make sense to you that I actually have a competent father. What does yours know about this world. You're just jealous that my parents are better than your barbaric ones." His response is, in my opinion, very weak but the other Slytherins don't seem to think so because they are breaking out in laughter and Pansy smiling in that sickening way of hers.

The group disperses as they hear more footsteps down the hall, but I cling to that moment or the rest of the day, that moment when he said something to me, when he looked at me.

So when he is in a group and he is challenged directly by me he is forced to speak to me and that is the first condition under which I can Hear his voice. But there are other ways.

The second condition under which he will speak to me arises far less often. To call upon an example I must think back a couple weeks when I was in a particularly foul mood. I was mad at something Ron had said. He has that way of putting his foot in his mouth. I'm not planning on running into him, on wandering to our meeting place. Actually I'm planning on standing him up. Angry and hurt tears are making their way over my face and I know I look an absolute wreck.

The subconscious is funny I guess because I end up where we always meet anyway and there he is leaning casually against the wall of the small unused corridor. He looks like he has all the time in the world. He is relaxed and without any tension as he stands there before me. He doesn't look up although I'm sure he has heard me arrive. This is the norm. We start almost without acknowledging each other most times. But this night I fall under the second condition and I know it. As soon as he hears my choked sob he breaks his norm and his silver eyes flash to my figure.

"Granger?" Yes, there it is. That voice I crave. And those eyes. So infrequently do they make contact with my own that I gasp, but that's okay. I'm sure he assumes that its part of another sob. He pushes away from the wall and he purses his lips. His eyes scan my face and I can see that he is struggling to figure out what to say. I know what to do though.

"I'm not doing this anymore." My voice is hallow and although I have said these words before never before have they sounded so very hallow. Before when I have fallen into the second category I have meant it. This time it is a game. I have to hear his voice tonight so I'll play that I have decided that we can't do this anymore. He seems to recognize my choice. He knows that I am lying. He knows what I need. The recognition in his eyes fade and he loses all signs of concern.

He is striding towards me like all the other times that I have said this and have truly meant it. He truly is a sight to see, confident and determined. Suddenly he is grabbing me and although this has happened before I still jolt in surprise at the intensity of it. My body hits the corridor wall and my head is only protected by his hand which he has strategically placed behind it to lessen the blow. The first time this happened he didn't do this and I had a head headache from it for several days afterwards. I never mentioned it to him but I think he must have over heard Ginny commenting on the lump on my head in the halls one day because every time since he has been sure to place a hand between me and the wall.

"You don't get to decide that this is over." He growls menacingly. I shiver and it isn't from fear. I can feel my breathing beginning to even out. This is helping. "Do you think I want to do this anymore? Do you think I don't want to walk away?" He asks in a harsh whisper and I merely shrug.

"Well I do. I don't want you. I don't want this. So no, you aren't walking away. I am!" See any other girl might have been insulted here, but I only feel pleased that I'm not the only one confused about this. I don't stop for long to think on it though because it's time for my line. I pause only to take in his eyes. They glint dangerously but I can't help but notice his lips are twitching as if he wants to smile. He knows it's time for my line as well. He can't wait for it any longer than I can.

"So do it! Walk away if you hate it that much. I won't care. Walk away Draco. I beg you." I get out through heavy breaths. His presence always makes my throat constrict and my breathing come quicker. He looks deeply at me for a moment. He really is a perfect actor at this scene by now. He's convincing even to me. For a second it looks as if he might pull away but I know that's not how this goes.

His eyes briefly flick down to my lips and then to my heaving chest. His eyes close tightly and he looks conflicted before the sexiest words I have ever heard, might ever hear, come from his lips.

"Fuck it all," He growls before claiming my lips for his own. And it's perfect and I forget about Ron, and blood status, and Voldemort, and the paper that is due in potions this week that I still need to redraft. The only thing that matters is him, me, and us together in our meeting spot down an old forgotten corridor.

And then there is that third condition. Just thinking about it causes a blush to bloom across my cheeks because really who would imagine that this third thing would happen. I mean just kissing Draco is something of a miracle that no one would have been able to foresee.

To call upon an example, if I must, for your sake of course, I have to first warn you that it is sort of out of character for me to do any of this at all. Keep that in mind will you?

Tonight is a night that falls into the third category.

It starts the same every time for the most part. He is there waiting for me in our corridor and he looks uninterested and as if he has nothing better to do in the world at the same time. He never looks up as I walk towards him but when I'm within arm's reach he reaches for me, catching me by the wrist. I used to gasp at this but now I just feel warmth swarm up my arm and into the pit of my stomach. He seems to know that he has this effect on me and that only makes it even more annoying that this is the reaction that I have to him.

We kiss. Sometimes I start it but tonight he does. He is the very best kisser in the world. I don't need to kiss any more boys to know this because I am quite sure that he is the only one that can make my head feel as if it has come apart from my body. His hand comes up and I am reminded of how tiny I am compared to him every time he touches me. Now his fingers are spread across my face and the very last finger on his hand finds its way to almost the back of my head.

A tiny whimper scratches out of the back of my throat and his other hand grips my hip tightly. Tonight I'm in the mood to hear him. Not that I'm not always in that mood. It's just sometimes I can ignore that urge in favor of other things, very fun things I'll have you know.

So my own fingers start to undo his belt. I don't really know why but there is a very specific set of circumstances that have to happen here to get him to speak. For one it won't work if his shirt is even touched. It can't be unbuttoned and certainly not removed. His pants can't be completely removed either. The furthest I dare to push them down is to his thighs. He knows what I'm doing. There is no fighting me.

Although I will say that he did try to fight me on it the very first time. He hadn't said anything but he had grabbed my hands, trying to still them. Funny that he had even wanted to stop me, just one of the many mysterious that surround him. Why would he care what we do here. Everything here is forbidden so why make a big deal about anything so carnal.

Tonight I am practiced at this. I know exactly what to do to make him speak and this is my favorite condition in which he does. I pull him out of his boxers and take care to stroke him firmly but slowly. He has a drop of precum on the tip of his cock and I love looking at him like this. He is large, but not horribly so. Just the right size if you were to ask me and thick enough that my hand does not even come close to encompassing it. It is around this time that Draco starts to make familiar sounds, but it isn't the sounds that I want. I want his voice.

So I drop very suddenly to my knees and lean close to let his tip touch my lips teasingly. Draco's sounds increase in volume but he makes those sounds at that volume in many different positions when we are together. He is quite easy to read. Draco tries his hardest to stay stoic and silent but he can never prevent himself from moaning when we are together.

I am glad for the reassurance because sometimes it is hard to remain confident in my skills since there is hardly ever a verbal confirmation of me being pleasing to him.

My tongue comes out and I lick his tip and the precum that is there firmly. I love doing this for him. I can't explain why because when I think on it later, after the heat of the moment, I have a hard time not feeling embarrassed that I was so bold. So instead of wondering on it I open my mouth and let the head in all the while laving him with my tongue. If I've picked up anything from our times together it's that my tongue does a lot for him. Tonight is not an exception. I hear his head collide with the wall behind him and a groan escape his mouth and I stop teasing in favor for taking as much of him as I can into my mouth.

This is when the words start.

"Perfect," He murmurs to be and if I was a cat I'm sure I would purr. "Fucking perfect." I work my mouth over him and bring a hand up to stroke what I cannot take into my mouth. His hands are in my hair, tangling themselves in to my curls. He starts to stroke them away from my face in a soothing way.

"You have no idea," He whimpers. He says this a lot when I do this and I don't know what he means but I wish I did. What don't I know? Is he talking about how it feels or about something else entirely? I can't afford to be nosy with this. Maybe someday in the heat of the moment he will finally tell me. "Granger, please."

I know what he means. I know that he is asking for release from the edge that he is on.

"Fuck!" I would laugh if my mouth wasn't full. I try to double my efforts so that I can coax even more words from him. Sweet and quiet words that I only hear during this condition.

But there is something lacking in this condition that exists in the others. Draco never looks at me while I do this for him. His eyes are always tightly shut and I feel greedy for wanting that as well as his soft voice encouraging me on. I feel as if he looked at me then I would finally get the answer to all the questions left unanswered. Something always dangled in front of us, just out of touch, and I can't help but feel if our eyes met during this act, or perhaps right afterwards then that intangible thing would finally be within our reach.

"Hermione."

He only ever says my first name now, when we are like this. Even when we are intimate in other ways he says nothing, especially not my name. I shiver in pleasure whenever it happens to escape him though. Our first names are so often withheld from each other that the mere mention of them makes us feel that this is even more intimate than it already was.

When he finally cums I swallow willingly. I like having his taste on my tongue. If that's gross or un-lady-like I don't care. This is one of the only moments that I get to experience almost all of him. The only thing I am deprived of is his eyes. Still the best part is yet to come. His hands that rest in my hair loosen their hold and slip down to my shoulders. He pulls me up. His eyes are still closed but his face his relaxed. I see it only for a moment before he tucks my face into the crook of his neck. His fingers stroke my hair again and like always he starts to whisper to me in his post orgasmic haze.

"You're perfect, you know." He tells me in a whisper. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows what he is saying. Surely he wouldn't say this normally. "Perfect."

"Careful," I say with a snort. "Pansy would throw a fit if she heard you." He lets out a short, but very real laugh. I like the sound. It isn't often that I hear it.

"Fuck Pansy," He says pressing his nose into my hair an whispering into my ear. "I don't know if you've noticed but she's sort of a bitch." and now it is my turn to laugh but really it's a giggle. I hate myself for how cute it sounds but Draco must like it because I can feel him smiling against my ear. "You'll come tomorrow?" He asks and I can hear the insecurity in his voice only because I've been interpreting his words and tones for so long.

I nod slowly. This is the signal that this is about to end. He will stop talking soon and order me away. After the high of hearing his voice and being close to him, after having this pleasant moment, leaving makes my heart feel heavy.

"Alright," he doesn't say if he will be coming too or if he is happy that I want to be with him again. Draco isn't one to expose himself. He is protective of his emotions. Doesn't like to be vulnerable and I think that may be why he never looks at me when we do this. "Isn't it about time we get you back to Weasley?" He teases, but I can clearly hear the bitterness there. I wonder where it comes from.

"I don't know if you've noticed but he's sort of annoying." I joke and snuggle myself closer. This seems to relax him and he chuckles lowly.

"I have noticed that." He agrees but his hands are falling from me and I know soon he'll step away from me. I don't want that. I wonder what that means but I can't be bothered by it. I press a couple open mouthed kisses to his neck in the hopes that I can entice him to forget about the world for a little longer. He groans in reaction before grasping at my shoulders and pushing. "Hey. Hey." He says softly.

He still doesn't look at me, instead his eyes are focused just past my ear. I wish he would. I'm begging him in my head just to look for a moment, but of course he doesn't.

"You need to get back before you're missed." He reminds me. I wish for a second that my friends weren't so nosy. Then maybe I could stay longer. Then maybe I could coax him into looking at me. I know that what I need what we both need. Why does he deprive himself of this one thing that could bring us together.

"Okay," I whisper with a regretful nod. Tonight is not the night that we reach that thing that hovers between us. Maybe tomorrow.


End file.
